Kiss You, Kiss Me
by eirenical
Summary: When Enjolras turned twelve and realized that he wasn't feeling even the rudiments of attraction for either boys or girls, he enlisted Courfeyrac's help in an experiment to help determine why. That experiment lasts far longer and does far more damage than Courfeyrac was prepared for, but there's no way in hell he's going to put a stop to it on his own. (prequel to FYFM)


**Kiss You, Kiss Me** (8492 words) by **Renee-chan**  
**Chapters:** 1/1  
**Fandom:** Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil  
**Rating:** Mature  
**Warnings:** No Archive Warnings Apply  
**Relationships:** Courfeyrac/Enjolras, hints of Combeferre/Courfeyrac  
**Characters:** Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras (Les Misérables), Combeferre (Les Misérables)  
**Additional Tags:** First Kiss, Adolescent Sexuality, Sexual Confusion, Taking Advantage, Unrequited Love, Best Friends, Friendship, Angst, Drunk Sex, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting  
**Series:** Part 1 of Follow You, Follow Me

**Summary:**  
_"You prove a negative by showing that there is no proof that it's true." Enjolras' answer was quick and thoughtful. A moment later, the corner of his lips quirked upwards as he explained, "In other words, you try everything to show that you like nothing."_

When Enjolras turned twelve and realized that, unlike his classmates, he wasn't feeling even the rudiments of attraction for either boys or girls, he enlisted Courfeyrac's help in an experiment to help him determine why. That experiment lasts far longer and does far more damage than Courfeyrac was prepared for... but there's no way in hell he's going to put a stop to it on his own.

**_June 11, 2013:_** For all of you waiting for the next chapter of _Follow You, Follow Me_, I hope you'll indulge me in this little side journey. I've fallen a little in love with the dynamic between Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac in this story and I've been wanting to explore a bit of their joint backstory. This story begins when the boys are twelve and carries through until about a year before FYFM begins. It isn't necessary to read this to understand FYFM or to read FYFM to understand this, but the two stories are linked and this backstory will most likely end up referenced in FYFM eventually as it's now part of my headcanon for that 'verse.

Thanks to all of you for sticking with me!

Also... sorry, Courfeyrac!

* * *

**_Kiss You, Kiss Me_**  
by _Renee-chan_

* * *

Enjolras had been twelve the first time it happened. Courfeyrac had been his best friend - his only friend, really - for eight years. And he'd been out and proud, comfortable in the knowledge of his bisexuality for nearly as long. It was something he'd always known about himself and he didn't believe in 'hiding his light under a bushel,' so to speak. He wanted to shine like all get-out - loved the attention and the notice he got simply for being himself.

Enjolras, on the other hand, had never been that comfortable in his own skin. He was capable of shining - of shining like the freaking sun when the right mood struck him - but never for himself. It saddened Courfeyrac, sometimes, watching Enjolras hide away in his shadow, but nothing he did could pry Enjolras loose from his reserved ways.

Even now, here at his own twelfth birthday party, Enjolras was drawn into himself. He was polite. He thanked everyone when required. He circulated and made small talk. He ate cake.

...he was acting like he was hosting a business gathering for the Young Democrats, not his twelfth birthday party. He didn't dance. He didn't wear a party hat (though really, none but Courfeyrac did at that party because they were _twelve_ and no one did that anymore - Courfeyrac only got away with it because he was Courfeyrac and he was charming enough to pull it off without being made fun of). He didn't play any of the games. It was tragic. Truly tragic.

Eventually the guests filtered out and Enjolras' mother shooed the two of them off to Enjolras' bedroom so she could clean up without them underfoot. Courfeyrac took up one of his favorite perches - straddling the desk chair backwards and swinging back and forth on it - while Enjolras took a seat on his bed, hands clasped in front of him, a frown on his face like he was trying to puzzle out a solution for world hunger. After ten minutes of that scowling silence, Courfeyrac couldn't take it anymore and reached out to nudge Enjolras with his foot, "Jeez, you'd think you just went to a funeral instead of your own birthday party. What's with the face?"

If anything, Enjolras' frown deepened and he kept his silence for another five minutes. Courfeyrac was just about to break it by kicking Enjolras, again, when Enjolras spoke up, "Courfeyrac... how did you know you were bisexual?"

And that was about the _last_ thing Courfeyrac thought was going to come from all that thinking. It wasn't even on the damned list. Enjolras just... he didn't think about things like that. Caught completely flatfooted, Courfeyrac said, "Huh?"

A light pink tint stained Enjolras' cheeks and Courfeyrac smiled wide, delighted. Enjolras cleared his throat. "I could not help but notice that, unlike in previous years, numerous of our classmates arrived to this function in pairs."

Courfeyrac nodded, thinking he was starting to see the shape of where this was going and dreading it. This was the sort of talk Enjolras should be having with his father, wasn't it? And Enjolras' father would give a _good_ talk, unlike Courfeyrac's had. Courfeyrac's father had scowled, tossed him a condom and a pamphlet and said, "If you get a girl pregnant, don't expect the family to pay for getting rid of it. You get into trouble, you get yourself out of it." It had been... less than informative.

Enjolras continued, "It has also occurred to me that as part of going through puberty, one should beging to develop such preliminary attachments, and yet..." He left the sentence trailing, frown deepening even further.

Courfeyrac dropped his head onto his folded hands and let out a small moan. But, when he looked up, ready to tell Enjolras to just go talk to his parents... he couldn't. For the first time in Courfeyrac's memory, Enjolras looked... young. He looked confused. He looked a little scared. And in that moment of weakness, he'd come to Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac couldn't betray that by shoving him off on someone else.

Taking a deep breath, Courfeyrac said, "Well... first of all... did you listen to yourself rattle that off just now? Christ, Enjolras. It's not a social experiment you're talking about. It's life. Living. You know. Having fun!" Seeing Enjolras' frown shift from one of puzzlement to one of disapproval, Courfeyrac hastened to add, "The fact that you don't get that probably means you just... I don't know. Maybe you're just not ready to get it. Physical maturity is one thing, emotional maturity is-" He cut himself off as Enjolras' frown became a scowl of irritation. Right. Right, because if there was one thing Enjolras _wasn't_, it was immature. He sighed. "Or maybe you're asexual?"

Both of Enjolras' eyebrows went up at that and he repeated the word as though trying it on for size. "Asexual."

Courfeyrac nodded. "It means you don't-"

"I know what it means, Courfeyrac. I'd just never considered the possible ramifications of such an idea in relation to myself."

Of course, he hadn't. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. Another silence fell and Courfeyrac resumed swiveling around on the chair, wating for Enjolras to finish trying to fit this new idea into place. Finally Enjolras came back with, "How would I know the difference?" At Courfeyrac's confused look, he said, "How would I tell if I was asexual or just... 'not mature enough'."

Courfeyrac laughed at the audible quotes around the last three words and the scowl that accompanied them as though they'd left a bad taste in Enjolras' mouth. He said, "I don't know! Have you ever been attracted to a woman?" Head shake. "Have you ever been attracted to a man?" Another head shake. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, again, "I don't freaking know, Enjolras! Have you ever even kissed anyone?" A blush accompanied the next headshake. Courfeyrac threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Well, maybe it's like Brussels Sprouts. You won't know you don't like 'em until you try to eat them."

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose, "But, Courfeyrac, I _like_ Brussels Sprouts."

Courfeyrac immediately shot back, "Yeah, 'cause you're weird."

Their gazes met and the tension fell away as they both laughed at the old inside joke. Courfeyrac reached out and patted Enjolras' hand. "Seriously, though, I think this is one of those cases where you just have to try it and see if you like it. Process of elimination, you know? If you try everything and don't like any of it... then you're asexual?" At the look of distate that overwhelmed Enjolras' face at that, Courfeyrac finally had enough and jumped up from the chair to start pacing. When he stopped, he said, "Enjolras, you gotta help me out here. This whole thing is just... it's _foreign_ to me. I mean... you're talking to a guy who figured he'd like everything and has thus far been proved right! I don't know how you prove a negative."

"You prove a negative by showing that there is no proof that it's true." Enjolras' answer was quick and thoughtful. A moment later, the corner of his lips quirked upwards as he explained, "In other words, you try everything to show that you like nothing."

Courfeyrac plopped down beside Enjolras on the bed, flopped onto his back and waved a hand above him as though to say, "See? I told you." Another silence filled the room and Courfeyrac shifted, uncomfortably. There was something in this silence...

Eventually, Courfeyrac became aware of a gentle hand touching his chest. It rested there, innocuous and asking nothing, right in the center at the edge of his heartbeat. He opened his eyes to find Enjolras staring down at him with a determined frown on his face. Courfeyrac's eyes widened and he jerked upright, scooting out from underneath that hand. "No. Oh, no. We're not doing this."

"But you said..."

"I know what I said!"

The two boys stared at each other, breath coming faster, eyes wide all around, at the shrill tone of that last exclamation. Enjolras calmed first and said, "You have more experience with kissing than I do and who else am I going to ask?"

There was a plaintive note in Enjolras' voice in the back half of that question and Courfeyrac slumped. It wasn't often that Enjolras hinted at the loneliness Courfeyrac knew he must feel, being as socially isolated as he'd made himself. He knew he was the only real friend Enjolras had. He knew how heavily Enjolras relied on that friendship. And was this really such a big thing to ask? It was just a kiss.

It was Enjolras' _first_ kiss, a traitorous voice in Courfeyrac's mind supplied. That's not nothing. That's actually huge. But, first kiss or not, Courfeyrac knew he couldn't say no. He never could, not when it was Enjolras asking. That was going to get him into trouble one day... He sighed, looked up to meet Enjolras' hopeful gaze, and nodded.

The Kiss (and yes it deserved the capital letter), when it happened, was brief, totally anticlimactic after all that build-up. Courfeyrac might have more experience with kissing than Enjolras, but he still wasn't even twelve. "More" experience didn't really mean much at that point. The Kiss was a brief press of lips, close-mouthed, just barely long enough to register the warmth and rough dryness of lips against lips... and then it was over.

For all that, though, Courfeyrac's stupid, romantic heart actually skipped a beat. It skipped a fucking beat. And in that moment, Courfeyrac fell a little bit in love with his best friend - he'd been halfway there already, because really, Enjolras was too handsome by far and he was even more so when he was all fired up fighting for something and he was downright adorable when he was clueless, too, and OK, OK, so Courfeyrac had already had it pretty bad for his best friend, but, damn it, he'd kept it so well under wraps until then that he'd even nearly hidden it from himself - and The Kiss was the final nail in his coffin.

Courfeyrac pulled back, slowly opened his eyes as his stupid heart starting daring to hope that he'd see a look of wonder on Enjolras' face when he did. And that look of wonder would break into a sunny smile and he would say, 'Oh! So _that's_ what all the fuss is about!' and kiss him, again.

Courfeyrac waited a breath, then two, then three, as Enjolras took in the evidence of his senses, analyzed it, and finally shook his head. As Courfeyrac's heart gave one painful thud and dropped into his stomach to become a lead weight sitting awkwardly between the cake and the pizza from earlier, Courfeyrac said quietly, "...nothing?"

Enjolras sighed and shook his head again, then shrugged, "Nothing."

Well, there was nothing for it, then. No use crying over asexual-until-proven-otherwise milk. Courfeyrac stood up and stretched, cracking his back and ruthlessly enjoying the exaggerated shudder Enjolras always made when he did it. "Well, I guess that's that, then. Glad I could help." He clapped Enjolras on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go see if there's anymore cake left." Because suddenly this had become a drown-your-sorrows-in-cake kind of moment.

Enjolras' eyebrows went up, "But you already had two pieces! And four slices of pizza! How can you possibly still be hungry?"

Courfeyrac grinned and reached out to pinch Enjolras' cheek, ignoring the resulting cry of outrage as he said, "Because some of us are already growing boys."

It happened again on Enjolras' thirteenth birthday. Courfeyrac really should have expected it, but it blindsided him, nonetheless. He'd done his best to put The Kiss out of his mind, to forget this ridiculous crush he'd developed overnight on his best friend and move on. So, naturally, just when he thought he'd managed it...

"I'm thirteen, now."

Courfeyrac twitched and said, "Yep. So you are. That's why we're throwing you this party... or had you not figured that out, yet?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes and ignored Courfeyrac's words to say, "I know you're still technically twelve for another few weeks, but you still have another year's worth of experience than you did last time."

At those words, Courfeyrac choked on the piece of cake he'd just crammed into his mouth to avoid saying something remarkably stupid. Enjolras sighed dramatically and whacked him on the back until he could breath, again. As Courfeyrac caught his breath, he closed his eyes and whimpered. Enjolras had matured in the last year, come out of his shell a bit more. He was still reserved, still prone to hiding in Courfeyrac's shadow whenever there was too much socializing going on, but there was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there the year before. There was a growing purpose and a rising passion that Courfeyrac hoped he'd still be around to see when it came to fruition.

But, damn it, that was all irrelevant as all get out at the moment because there was that damned crush, again, and Courfeyrac never would have agreed to The Kiss in the first place if he'd known that Enjolras would want to try it again the next year! And _double_ damn it, but Courfeyrac still couldn't deny Enjolras anything, even though now he looked more like a conquering general demanding surrender than a lonely puppy looking for reassurance. Actually... that made it worse. Courfeyrac blushed at that newly discovered kink, but nodded and said, "When everyone leaves, OK?"

Enjolras gave him a tight smile and nodded. "Of course." And with that the final word on the matter... he was gone.

As soon as the party was over, Enjolras' mother, again, shooed them off to his room so she could clean up. There was no long debate this time. Before Courfeyrac even had time to process that it was happening, before the door was even fully closed, Enjolras was leaning in and kissing _him_ this time. It was just as brief, just as chaste as The Kiss the year before... and with just as disappointing a result.

Enjolras leaned back, his face already working through emotions as he tried to process if there was any difference. Courfeyrac swore that this time he would be prepared for that subtle rejection... but somehow, when Enjolras sighed and shook his head, Courfeyrac's stupid heart dropped into his stomach, again. He laughed it off, though, made another joke about some of them growing faster than others and cajoled Enjolras into breaking out the new Playstation that Courfeyrac had a feeling would only get used when he was over.

...and once again began the arduous process of tucking away a crush that he should never have let form in the first place.

When Enjolras turned fourteen, it was different. Courfeyrac was no longer his only friend. There was a third member to their little group now - a scholarly type by the name of Combeferre. He'd been in Courfeyrac's world history class and the second he opened his mouth, Courfeyrac had known that he and Enjolras would get on like a house on fire. The guy was _quick_ and he was damned smart and he could argue circles around the teacher... but he didn't. He was always polite, always showed respect, always tried to get the teacher to see the fallacy in his logic on his own so he wouldn't have to correct him in front of the class.

So, how did Courfeyrac know he was capable of it? Easy. He'd also seen him stand up to the class bullies. They'd picked on him for being polite and somewhat reserved and for, of all things, wearing glasses. Courfeyrac had been ready to step in - the school might not have a zero-tolerance bullying policy but Courfeyrac sure as hell did - but ended up finding it completely unnecessary. He'd watched as Combeferre calmly, quietly and rationally tore the bullies about ten new ones, all without ever losing the polite smile on his face.

Courfeyrac had wasted no time in befriending him. It had taken some groundwork to make him ready to be friends with Enjolras, too, and the initial road had been bumpy as hell - after ten years with Courfeyrac as his only friend, Enjolras was more than a little resistant to the idea of a new one - but it had been well worth it. Combeferre fit in with them like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle and now that he was there, Courfeyrac could catch a glimpse of what the future was going to be like for them... and it was full of sunlight.

So, naturally, Courfeyrac assumed that The Kiss, and its sequel, The Kiss, Part II, had been long forgotten with the introduction of Combeferre and Enjolras' slowly widening world view.

He was wrong.

This year, it was all three of them who were left when the party was over and Courfeyrac wouldn't admit it, but his heart had been racing in anticipation ever since Enjolras' mother sent them off to his room. After all, it wasn't as though Enjolras would do anything with Combeferre sitting right there. Neither of them were ashamed of the idea of kissing another man, but both agreed that actions such as those should be kept private. So nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. And really, Courfeyrac should just calm the fuck down about it.

Sometime around 6:30, Enjolras' parents informed them that they were going out to dinner and that the three of them were welcome to whatever leftovers were in the refrigerator. Fifteen minutes after that, Enjolras mumbled something about being hungry and suggested they put some of the pizza in the oven. Combeferre volunteered to help, but Enjolras shook his head as he stood, "No, you're still a guest, Combeferre. Relax. Courfeyrac can give me a hand. He knows where everything is in the kitchen and he's a better cook than both of us."

As Enjolras shepherded him down the hall, Courfeyrac couldn't help but gape at how transparent this all seemed. It could be innocent. After all, Courfeyrac was a decent cook. He spent more nights with his maid than he did with his parents, after all, and she didn't mind teaching him, even when his siblings scoffed at his desire to learn, but all that aside... this was reheating a pizza. Even Enjolras could handle that on his own and surely Combeferre would figure that out and- Courfeyrac forced himself to take a deep breath, to remember that this was Enjolras and this whole thing might actually be as innocent as it looked.

It wasn't.

Once Enjolras had Courfeyrac alone in the kitchen, he leaned against the center island and quirked an eyebrow, waiting. Courfeyrac exploded in a burst of furious whispers. "Are you kidding me? Again? Twice wasn't enough to satisfy your curiosity? Jesus Christ, Enjolras, Combeferre is two rooms away!"

Enjolras just offered him a small smile and a shrug. "Then I guess you'd better stop arguing and get with it, already."

Courfeyrac groaned and covered his face with his hands, but already his stupid heart was hammering up into his throat and he knew that he was going to do exactly what Enjolras asked.

And he did.

This time, Courfeyrac had a little more experience under his belt. He'd kissed his fair share of girls in the last two years and he'd learned a thing or two. He stepped forward, licked his lips, and slid a hand into the hair at the base of Enjolras' neck, gently massaging the skin underneath. Enjolras raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Courfeyrac leaned down and pressed their lips together, moving his slowly against Enjolras', attempting to coax him into parting his lips... and nothing. So, Courfeyrac kept this kiss just as chaste as the two that had come before it and when he was done, he couldn't even look Enjolras in the eyes, knowing what he was going to see there. He turned away and busied himself with putting the pizza in the oven.

When he finally did turn back, there was a slightly sad look in Enjolras' eyes as he shook his head and offered, "We can try again next year?"

Courfeyrac didn't even bother to deny that they would.

This went on every year for the next four. Even with Combeferre now in the mix, Enjolras would always find a way to get Courfeyrac alone after the party was over. Courfeyrac would kiss him. Enjolras would analyze it... and nothing. Still nothing. And it wasn't Courfeyrac's fault. Damn it, he was a good kisser, and over the years, he'd tried every trick he knew that wouldn't scare Enjolras off. Still nothing. _Nothing_. Enjolras may as well have been a statue for all that he responded to Courfeyrac's kisses.

When they were seventeen, Courfeyrac had even suggested that maybe Enjolras just wasn't into guys and that he should try kissing a girl. Enjolras had waved that off with a dismissive air, said something about sexual attraction being a set of physical responses to stimuli and that he couldn't see why the physical body attached to the other pair of lips would make any difference.

Well. That answered that question. And proved quite conclusively that Enjolras was still thinking about this all wrong, because he was thinking too much. He needed to stop thinking and start feeling, and Courfeyrac just couldn't figure out how to make him understand that.

This year, though, Enjolras changed the pattern. He didn't wait until the party was over to go after his kiss. About halfway through the party - and it was a huge one, what with it being his 18th and all, and his entire extended family was there - he'd barreled past Courfeyrac and grabbed his hand, tugging him along behind him towards his bedroom. When they got there, they were both out of breath and Courfeyrac was highly confused.

Before Courfeyrac could even ask the question, Enjolras was on him, pressing him up against the wall, molding their bodies together and doing his best to imitate what he remembered from their once-a-year kisses. It was the first time since they were thirteen that Enjolras had been so forceful in going after what he wanted and Courfeyrac was impossibly turned on by it. He moaned into the kiss, unable to help himself as the feel of Enjolras' insistent body against his made him immediately hard. And then... Enjolras opened his mouth to pant for air at the same time. Instinctively, without even realizing what he was doing, Courfeyrac took advantage, slipped his tongue into Enjolras' mouth to touch his own.

Enjolras froze at that move and Courfeyrac began a gibbering panic of an internal monologue as he pulled away. A little out of breath, now from more than their mad dash to his bedroom, Enjolras panted out, "What... what was that?"

Courfeyrac smiled the widest, most charming grin he had in his arsenal and said hopefully, "Your first French kiss?"

Enjolras' eyes fluttered shut and he let out a soft moan at the words before pressing their lips back together and trying to reproduce on purpose what they'd just done accidentally. Of course. Idiot Francophile. And idiot Courfeyrac for not thinking to drop the name of that kind of kiss sooner! When they parted again, Courfeyrac smirked as he laid another verbal trap. "So, would this sudden initiative have anything to do with the set of first edition Robespierres I bought you for your birthday this year?"

Enjolras' moan this time was half whimper and such a delicious sound that Courfeyrac swore he needed to hear it again, someday... every day if he could manage it. Enjolras asked, "Are you just teasing or did you really...?"

Courfeyrac waggled his eyebrows in a way that seemed to beg, "Ask me what I had to do to procure them. I dare you." In reponse, Enjolras shut his eyes and indulged in a full body shudder, then kissed him, again.

When they finally broke apart, Courfeyrac was ready to run back out into the living room and shout out his joy for everyone to see that after all these years, _finally_ Enjolras had caught up to the rest of them, but when he looked back at Enjolras, it was to see him with that same confused frown as always back on his face... and Courfeyrac's heart sank, again... then immediately started to hammer back up in his throat as Enjolras dropped a hand down to pat the front of his own pants and scowl at the lack of reaction there. Courfeyrac thought he heard him mutter, "I thought for sure this time..." As Enjolras turned and walked away, Courfeyrac let his head fall back to thump against the wall, trying in vain to will his own hardness away before Enjolras turned back. Maybe it was time to consider the third option of directing Enjolras to talk to a doctor...

Still, even with this newest failure, Enjolras just shrugged it off and said something about trying again next year, and Courfeyrac willed himself not to burst into hysterics at the thought, because at that point, he wasn't certain if those hysterics be laughter or tears if he indulged in them. They filed back out to the party and Enjolras picked up his hosting like nothing had changed. But it had. And Courfeyrac... he tried. He really did. He ate and he laughed and he danced and he flirted... and Combeferre caught up to him an hour later, cornered him in the family room with a worried frown and simply asked, "What happened?" Courfeyrac tried to play it off, pretend to ignorance, but Combeferre wasn't having it. He frowned, gripped Courfeyrac's shoulder and leaned in to say, "If you think the two of you have been hiding what you get up to after every one of these parties from me all these years, let me assure you now that you are mistaken. I'm still not entirely certain that he isn't coercing you, somehow, but since you always seemed willing enough I've never said anything, but..." His eyes softened and his hand shifted up from Courfeyrac's shoulder to cup his face, "...something's different this time. He's never cornered you in the middle of the party for one and... you've never looked quite this sad afterwards for another."

Courfeyrac couldn't take it, that look in Combeferre's eyes. It was so open, so understanding, so... so _angry_ on his behalf. He blurted out the whole thing. How innocently it had all started, his stupid crush and how every year it would rear its ugly head just in time to smash his hopes all over again. And this year had been so much worse because it had seemed like Enjolras had really... fuck, he'd wanted it, wanted _him_, Courfeyrac had been sure of it, but still... nothing.

Courfeyrac wasn't crying by the time the story was done, but his eyes shone as brightly as if he had been. Combeferre pulled him into a tight embrace, then, and Courfeyrac had never been more grateful for his friend's easy acceptace and calm demeanor. Combeferre was all but zinging with anger underneath it for how Enjolras had mishandled Courfeyrac's emotions, but not a single bit of it slipped through to Courfeyrac.

Still... Courfeyrac knew his friends well. When they parted, he made Combeferre promise not to say anthing to Enjolras about this. And he knew Combeferre well enough to know that, though he would agree... he would be disappointed. And Courfeyrac couldn't deal with that today, either.

When the party broke up and Enjolras' mother and aunt and cousins tried to shoo them off... for the first time since Courfeyrac was four years old, he made up some excuse and instead of joining Enjolras and Combeferre... he just left.

The year Enjolras turned nineteen he and Courfeyrac were sharing a dormroom, so Courfeyrac thought for sure that there would be no kissing. This year... surely this year, he wouldn't want... not after last year. Only this year, it was different. It was just the three of them and they went out to dinner instead of throwing a party. Midterms were fast approaching and they all wanted to do well this first semester away from home.

Damn it, all, though. In spite of his best intentions, about halfway through dinner, Courfeyrac's heart started hammering a nervous stacatto of anticipation under his breastbone. It was almost conditioning at this point - the unepectedness of when Enjolras would steal a moment alone for them, the anticipation of their bodies pressed together, breathing in those stolen kisses... He couldn't help it. Even though he knew it was a terrible idea, Courfeyrac still wanted whatever scraps Enjolras would toss his way. And of course, Combeferre noticed. When Enjolras got up to use the restroom after they'd finished dessert, Combeferre reached out and grabbed Courfeyrac's hand, eyes intense with worry. Courfeyrac gave him the best smile he could manage - and even he admitted it wasn't his best effort - and shrugged. Combeferre shook his head. Courfeyrac shrugged, again.

There was no more time for silent communication then because Enjolras was back and the waiter arrived with the bill right on his heels. Courfeyrac knew himself well enough, at least, to admit that Combeferre was right to be worried. After all... Enjolras and Courfeyrac were roommates this year and Combeferre wouldn't be there to chaperone once they all went to bed for the night. And Courfeyrac had proven more than once that he was incapable of saying 'No' where Enjolras was concerned.

When they parted ways at the dorm stairs, Combeferre to head up to his room on the second floor and Enjolras and Courfeyrac to theirs on the first, Courfeyrac did his best to ignore the worried warning looks Combeferre was sending his way. Courfeyrac knew the words of that argument by heart already. He'd had it with himself every day this week and he already knew that when Enjolras asked... Courfeyrac was going to do whatever he wanted.

When Courfeyrac and Enjolras reached their room, however, Enjolras didn't say a word about it, didn't even mention their yearly birthday ritual. He just went about his nightly routine as if it was any other night, nothing special, and though Courfeyrac's heart gave a traitorous lurch of disappointment, even he had to admit that it was probably for the best. He slowly relaxed as hour after hour passed and Enjolras didn't try anything. They finished up the last of their studying, and went to brush their teeth. Everything was fine.

...until it wasn't. Something in the way that Enjolras deliberately slid the bolt home when they returned to the room started Courfeyrac's heart pounding, again. And Enjolras' soft touch on his shoulder had him jumping sideways into the corner of his desk as he turned. Enjolras just scowled at him and said, "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. It's just... it's nothing." And if Courfeyrac's voice sounded as breathless as he felt, then he was screwed, because even Enjolras couldn't miss that obvious sign of nerves.

Sure enough, Enjolras frowned at him. "That's not nothing. You've been jumpy all night and if looks could kill, Combeferre would have had me dead before we were done with the appetizers. What did I miss? Did I try to sleep-strangle you last night or something? I'll admit I was tempted after that stunt you pulled with the Silly String on Halloween. Do you have any idea how long that took to clean up?"

Courfeyrac let out a high, awkward bark of a laugh. Trust Enjolras to still be holding onto a grudge from over a week ago. And fuck him for being so damned observant when he wanted to be. Courfeyrac shrugged helplessly and went with the truth - or as much of it as he could stand to share. "Combeferre thinks you're going to try to coerce me into sex."

Courfeyrac prudently didn't add that he wasn't entirely sure that Combeferre was wrong.

Enjolras' eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He stepped back away from Courfeyrac as if he'd been burned by their proximity. After watching Courfeyrac for another moment, Enjolras' eyes narrowed and he spat out, "If you wanted to stop letting me kiss you on my birthday, you should've just said."

Courfeyrac dropped his head into his hands and let out a small moan. "No, that... Enjolras, that's not it. It just..." He looked up, meeting Enjolras' gaze with a fierce one of his own, "I love you, you know that?" When Enjolras tentatively nodded, Courfeyrac laughed, "And I want to help you figure this out, I do. I... I love that you trust me that much and I want to see this thing through to the end with you, whatever that end is."

Enjolras' eyes softened at that reassurance and he reached out to take one of Courfeyrac's hands in his. "But...?"

Courfeyrac pulled Enjolras' hand to his chest and gripped it tightly, "But do you have any idea what it does to me, year after year, to give you so much and to let myself hope, again and again and again, and to still know-" Courfeyrac stopped, embarrassment choking off the words in his throat.

But Courfeyrac and Combeferre weren't the only one who knew their friends well. Enjolras did, too. He stared down at their joined hands and finished, "And to still know that nothing will come of it."

Enjolras' eyes filled with sorrow as Courfeyrac nodded, then pulled him close to press a soft kiss, as chaste as the first one they'd ever shared, on Enjolras' lips. "And to know further still that when you look at me after dashing my hopes, yet again, and ask, 'Next year?' that I'll _still_ say yes."

Enjolras was the one who reached out the next time, pulled Courfeyrac's head down for another kiss, not as chaste this time, but just as gentle. A little hysterically, Courfeyrac thought that at least their yearly kisses were doing one good thing for Enjolras - if he ever _did_ figure out he wasn't asexual, whoever he ended up kissing after Courfeyrac would be one lucky S.O.B. He was getting good at this.

With no chance of anyone interfering, their kisses landed them on Enjolras' bed this time and Courfeyrac had to fight off a wave of panic at the thought that Combeferre's every worry might actually come true. He needn't have. The second that Enjolras felt Courfeyrac tense against him, he stopped, shifted to place a soft kiss on Courfeyrac's forehead, then pulled away. And Courfeyrac knew even before Enjolras shook his head that it was 'Maybe next year?' again this year, too.

At least Enjolras was good enough the next morning to both make himself scarce... and to not call Courfeyrac out on the stifled crying he had to have heard after they turned the lights out the night before.

Their yearly kissing routine changed after that, with luxury and a deeper understanding of what it might mean for them both. Rather than simple kisses, they became longer and longer sessions of making out - but still only once a year, on Enjolras' birthday. Combeferre had been furious. It was the only time in all the years that they'd known him that either had seen him truly angry. He made it explicitly clear to Enjolras that he didn't approve, that if Courfeyrac wasn't smart enough to take care of his own heart that one of them should step up and do it for him. And Enjolras, bless _his_ heart, had stepped up and defended Courfeyrac's right to make his own choices, even if he got hurt in the process and quite firmly told Combeferre to mind his own business.

They didn't speak for a week and Courfeyrac was all but frantic to try to find a way to fix it, but he couldn't see _how_ and he didn't want to lose either of his friends over this stupid mess.

And ultimately, it was Courfeyrac's quiet panic which brought Combeferre around - because the last thing he wanted to do was make the situation worse and really... it was one day out of 365. If Courfeyrac could handle it, so could he. So, Combeferre had backed off, had grudgingly, tacitly agreed that this could continue, though he did quietly arrange room transfers for the three of them the next year so that Courfeyrac and Enjolras would no longer be rooming together. And when Courfeyrac started feeling the need to drown his disappointment in whatever alchohol he could get his hands on the day after Enjolras' birthday, Combeferre just made sure he was on hand to get him safely home afterwards.

It wasn't until they were 22, their first year in law school, that things changed again. It was the first year that both Enjolras and Courfeyrac could legally drink on Enjolras' birthday, so their friends had taken them out to their favorite new bar, the Musain, and proceeded to do their best to get Enjolras as drunk as they could. And to everyone's surprise but Courfeyrac's... Enjolras let it happen.

It didn't take much. Enjolras hardly ever drank even once he was legal and he was a lightweight to start with. An amazing thing happened, though, once Enjolras had a few in him... he _relaxed_. The tension just ran out of him and contrary to everyone's predictions - including Courfeyrac's and Combeferre's - he was a happy drunk. He was a very happy drunk. He was effusive with his praise and downright... cuddlesome. If Courfeyrac hadn't been fairly drunk, himself, he'd have been highly disturbed. As it was, he just found it adorable and took every opportunity Enjolras would give him to pet his hair, lean a head on his shoulder, or let himself be used as a backrest when Enjolras flopped over against him.

It was such a pleasant night that by the time Courfeyrac got Enjolras back to his apartment, he'd all but forgotten what they'd been celebrating in the first place... and what it usually meant. He remembered soon enough, however, and was jolted a decent part of the way back towards sober, when Enjolras pulled Courfeyrac down on top of himself the instant Courfeyrac got him maneuvered onto the couch.

Oh, no. No, no, no. If there was one thing Courfeyrac would _not_ do, it was indulge in any kind of sexual activity with Enjolras while he was drunk. Enjolras would never forgive him and he'd be right not to. But, the more he tried to pull away, the more Enjolras' arms and legs turned into vices around him. Fortunately, Enjolras eventually seemed to take the hint and stopped trying to kiss him.

...or considering the way he immediately started fumbling around to his side near the garbage can, he might have just needed to throw up. Courfeyrac kindly fetched him the wastebasket and just as quickly put it back when Enjolras' scorching glare proved that that hadn't been what he was after. He fumbled around some more, finally managed to grab a piece of paper off the top of the end table and hand it to Courfeyrac, motioned for him to read it. And as he did, Courfeyrac's eyes widened and eventually, he began to laugh. It was dated and _timestamped_, the anal retentive little shit, from earlier that evening before they'd all arrived to drag Enjolras out to drink.

~Courfeyrac,

I am no fool. In precisely twenty-four minutes you will be at my door with Combeferre and the others to take me out for my birthday. I realize that we will be drinking and that by the time we arrive home, I will most likely be drunk. I also know you well enough to know that you would not take advantage of me in any state other than perfectly sober and fully in command of my faculties.

So, consider this my explicit written consent to do exactly that. Take advantage of me (though whether it can truly be considered taking advantage if you have been giving explicit written permission to do so is a potential subject for debate, I suppose).

No doubt, if the night has gone as I've lain out and you are reading this letter, you are wondering why I've gone to all this trouble, why I've let myself become inebriated and still wish to engage in our yearly experiment. It's quite simple, really. Since turning eighteen, I have suspected that it is not a lack of sexual desire holding me back, but that it is an overabundance inhibitions. I would like to let go of them for a night and see what effect that has.

Be aware, however, that I make no guarantees that I will remember at what point we should stop once I am inebriated. In anticipation of that, I will assure you now that if my relaxed state carries us farther than kissing, I give my permission for that, as well. Also, rest assured that if kissing is as far as **you** wish to take things, I respect that and will submit to your cooler head and better judgment.

Sincerely,

Enjolras P.S. - If I later disagree with the point at which you wish to stop, I apologize now for anything I may say in the heat of the moment and will apologize again come morning.~

Courfeyrac read the letter, read it again... and read it again. After the fourth time, Enjolras was poking him and making irritated noises and Courfeyrac was all but helpless to respond through his laughter. Trust Enjolras to take Courfeyrac's thoughtfulness into account in a situation like this and have drafted a disclaimer for him.

Enjolras finally frowned and grumped at him, "Can there be kissing, now?"

Courfeyrac almost ruined the moment by laughing again, but got it under control at the last minute and bent claim Enjolras' pouting lips. And the kisses that followed... good G-d. If he weren't drunk already, Courfeyrac would have been able to get drunk off those kisses alone. Normally, even their most intense kisses were still contained somehow, Enjolras keeping himself reserved and as aloof as he could manage even then. But, now... now there was no barrier between Enjolras and what he wanted. And after barely a minute of kissing each other breathless, there was no question that Enjolras did want it. A problem of inhibitions, indeed.

Enjolras was as hard as Courfeyrac and making those deliciously needy half-moan, half-whimpers that had so entranced him when they'd been eighteen. Courfeyrac shifted to straddle Enjolras' hips and Enjolras rocked up against him, letting out even lewder noises than those moan-whimpers had been. As their pace grew more frantic, Courfeyrac dropped his head against Enjolras' shoulder and groaned. Fuck, this was a bad idea. It was a _terrible_ idea. Combeferre would be so angry at him tomorrow... and, Christ, they weren't even going to get out of their clothes, were they? This was going to be so gross come morning. But, even with all those 'you shouldn't's ringing in his head, Courfeyrac couldn't bring himself to stop... or to care. This might be the last time he would ever have Enjolras like this - wanting him, needing him, _only_ him - and he wasn't going to give it up for anything. Damn the consequences.

Courfeyrac reached between them, unzipped Enjolras' jeans and reached inside to take him in hand. Enjolras arched his back beneath him in an attempt to press even closer and then let out a raggedly exultant cry when Courferyac began roughly jerking him off.

Even with the alcohol flooding his system, it didn't take long beyond that before Enjolras was spilling his seed over Courfeyrac's hand. Once Enjolras recovered, he made a clumsy motion in the direction of the button of Courfeyrac's jeans, but Courfeyrac gently pushed his hand away. Between the drink and what might have been Enjolras' very first orgasm, Enjolras was already 90% of the way towards sleep. And this had never been about reciprocation. This had been an experiment - a way to help Enjolras figure out if he was asexual or just a late bloomer. That was all. And now that they'd proved conclusively that Enjolras was not asexual... well, Courfeyrac was a big boy. He could take care of himself.

So, Courfeyrac got up from the couch and reached for the box of tissues to clean Enjolras up, then pulled off Enjolras shoes and jeans and covered him with the afghan that always lay across the back of the couch.

With that done and Enjolras drifting off to sleep, Courfeyrac made his way into the bathroom to take a shower. He debated back and forth over temperature for a while before finally deciding that he fucking well deserved this one and he wasn't going to feel guilty about using Enjolras' shower like this. He turned the water up as hot as he could stand it, slicked his hands with soap and reached down to finish doing for himself what he'd done for Enjolras just five minutes before.

Courfeyrac could still see it - those breathy moan-whimpers tumbling from Enjolras' lips in an endless stream, the arched bow of his back and neck as Enjolras pressed up against him... the look on Enjolras' face as he came. Courfeyrac leaned back against the cool tiles behind him and worked his hand over himself, picturing the faces Enjolras had made through the years as they'd shared kisses on his birthday, pictured the dawning understanding that must have happened over the last four, even pictured him sitting and agonizing over every last word in that damned disclaimer, his lips pulled down into a frown of concentration. Courfeyrac caught himself wondering if perhaps Combeferre had been there, too, helping Enjolras figure out exactly how to word things so that Courfeyrac would know it was all right... and at that last image, Courfeyrac came with a hoarse shout, slowly collapsing against the tiles as the water washed all the evidence away. And if that release felt hollow, somehow... unsatisfying... no one else ever needed to know.

After cleaning himself off, Courfeyrac climbed back out of the shower, dried off and had just enough energy to pull his boxers back on before curling up beside Enjolras on the couch and falling into a deep slumber.

It was the morning after Enjolras' 22nd birthday and Courfeyrac woke up with no idea of where he was, except that he was on someone's couch, he was nearly naked, there was a blanket draped over him... and someone was cooking. He moaned his way into a sitting position, blearily tried to blink away the dryness, left behind from sleeping the night in his contacts, enough to bring the world into focus. When he finally succeeded, the first thing he saw was a slightly crumpled letter addressed to himself sitting on the coffee table.

And at the sight of that letter, it all came rushing back. He knew where he was. He knew what he'd done. He knew who he'd slept with last night. So, where the _hell_ was Enjolras?

Courfeyrac jumped from the couch and whirled to face the kitchen, heart trying to jump into his throat and his stomach at once, leaving him unsure if he was going to scream or throw up. Both seemed like good options at that moment.

Enjolras' voice - far too cheerful for how tired and hungover he should be - spoke up from the kitchen. "If you're going to throw up, please try to get to the bathroom. If you're not, Combeferre is making pancakes and you're welcome to join us."

Even as he breathed a sigh of relief at that cheerful tone and the easy supply of answers, the utterly unaffected attitude it portrayed told Courfeyrac everything he needed to know. Last night... everything had changed. Except nothing had. And nothing would. Courfeyrac's stomach rolled and he turned and ran for the bathroom. He made it just in time. By the time he was done heaving into the toilet, there was a cool set of hands touching him - one holding back his hair, the other resting at the small of his back and rubbing soft circles on the bare skin there.

When Courfeyrac looked up, it was Combeferre's worried eyes that met his. And in those eyes was the confirmation of all the answers to all the questions that Courfeyrac suspected he already knew the answers to and yet hadn't wanted to ask. Enjolras was finally satisfied that he was not, in fact, asexual and he was far from angry about what had happened last night. If anything, he was inordinately pleased with himself for having finally solved the mystery.

...and that was the end of the experiment. Now that the question was finally answered to Enjolras' satisfaction, Courfeyrac knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't see a need to test his hypothesis, again. He would be content to wait now that there was no mystery attached. This year... there would be no 'Maybe next year?' no matter how desperately Courfeyrac might wish there to be.

Combeferre pulled him into a tight hug, wordlessly offering the comfort that he knew Courfeyrac would never ask for, wordlessly expressing his anger at the situation that he knew Courfeyrac would vehemently reject if he expressed it out loud. So, he remained silent, and let Courfeyrac cling to him, let him fight to wrestle down his love for his best friend yet another time... for the last time.

When Courfeyrac had calmed, he gathered up his clothes from where he'd left them in scattered heaps around the bathroom the night before and dressed, then in a move that was so petty and junior high it made Combeferre laugh, Courfeyrac used Enjolras' toothbrush to rid his mouth of the taste of vomit. By the time he walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, his smile was firmly in place, not a hint of wobble to it, and he was ready to congratulate Enjolras on finally figuring out that he wasn't asexual, just horrifically repressed and with a stick up his ass the size of a telephone pole.

It took Combeferre longer than that to wrestle his own emotions back under control, but he did it, if not for Enjolras' sake, than for Courfeyrac's. Unlike Courfeyrac, he was glad this was over. He was glad that Enjolras wouldn't have another opportunity to play around with Courfeyrac's emotions, no matter how willing Courfeyrac had always been to let him do it. He was glad that he wouldn't ever again have to patch his best friend's heart back together after their other best friend broke it. He was just glad that Courfeyrac might finally have a chance to move on.

It was the best gift Enjolras could ever have given either of them.


End file.
